


Child Prodigy.

by PlushRumps



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blindfolds, F/M, Rape, Vibrators, highschool teachers au, mentions of daterape whatnots, mentions of weed, not a humanstuck, technically daterape, yet another rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlushRumps/pseuds/PlushRumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You're just about to get up out of your chair and leave when she prances on in, apologising quietly as she sits across the table. This is certainly not who you were expecting at all. Across from you, all smiles and cheery attitude is the child prodigy, Aradia Megido. Well, she's a child in your books, anyway.' <br/>Aradia turns up at an arts meeting at the local highschool and it really all just goes downhill for her from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child Prodigy.

Staff meetings. Fuck, you hate those. You never meant to get that promotion, after all. You were just some regular guy that decided to help out every year at performances and you just can't refuse a job offer - not in a place like this. You always have wanted to teach. You sit at the head of the table with an empty notepad before you, colleges glancing at the doorway every now and again between idle conversation and sips of coffee.You're only waiting for one more person, "It's a surprise," your boss said. He's a wonderful guy but god damn does he give you the shits.

You're just about to get up out of your chair and leave when she prances on in, apologising quietly as she sits across the table. This is certainly not who you were expecting at all. Across from you, all smiles and cheery attitude is the child prodigy, Aradia Megido. Well, she's a child in your books, anyway. She's one of the school's few substitute teachers, specialising in the humanities. You've heard good things of her from the students but are still suspicious; a humanities teacher has no place in an arts meeting.

The meeting finally begins after a few minutes of introduction and disorganisation, people losing their train of thought mid-sentence or not being able to find their papers. You watch Aradia closely throughout the meeting, one hand doodling idly on her notebook as she gazes dreamily in the general direction of the speaker. When it's her turn to talk she clears her throat and rises to her feet confidently. The way she holds herself and the way that she talks makes you wish that you could reply in turn, her eyes lighting up as she explains and demonstrates her theories and ideas. People around her nod and make small 'hmm' or 'uhuh' noises, taking notes as she goes. 

One of the humans, a female with short blonde hair and a bright pink abomination on her shirt decides to start stacking pens in her boredom. She gets about 3 high before they all fall over, landing rather noisily on the table. The whole room seems to look at her at once but Aradia doesn't seem to mind, continuing on with or without their attention. You like that about her. 

 

After the staff meeting, she says her first words directly to you.

"Hello," she says, "how are you?" You nod and attempt your best polite smile, stitches pulling at your lips ever so slightly. You excuse yourself from the conversation and take your leave, taking shelter in the staffroom. 

As you're sitting at the small table and quietly sipping your soup through a straw, who else should talk in but little miss child prodigy. She sits at the opposite end of the table to you and produces an apple, munching on it quietly as she flicks through the local newspaper. She glances up at you a few times and you meet her eyes each and every one, soup straw still poised between your two front stitches. You smile at her and she smiles back, a faint blush hinting at her cheeks. You're blushing too. Thank god for face paint. You zone out, and by the time the bell rings for the next class, she's gone.

For the next week or two, you both slowly get to know one-another. You discover that she does journalism in her free time and that she runs a blog. It's all bright and colourful, lots of links and excitable descriptions. You link her to your own at some stage, black background and indigo title, gifs and images of anything and anything littering the pages. You could get used to a friendship like this.

 

One month later the two of you are out at a nightclub together, getting lost in the moment, school finally over for another year. She looks absolutely stunning in her short red dress and she claims that you look immaculate too, although only on the way did she mention that people don't wear suits at a nightclub. You could've killed her then and there if the arts team didn't need her so much. 

You're sitting at the bad and sipping your drink when a young highblood slides into the chair beside you, all tight pants, slicked back hair and cigarette smoke. He slips you a bag of weed under the table and you return with a couple of bills, stashing the bag away in your pocket. You have to have something to do over the holidays, you suppose. You remain in your chair and let the other make idle conversation, his thoughts flowing freely.

"Wvhat about that Megido girl, hey? She's pretty spunky." He elbows you playfully and grins, taking another swig of his drink at your unimpressed stare. "Nah, it's alright, chief. I ain't one to steal another brother's wvoman." with that comment the greaser gets up and takes his leave, a bag of pills and a note saying 'you'll need them' tossed your way. You pocked them and re-enter the dance floor, searching for Aradia. 

 

At the end of the night you're carrying a passed out Aradia Megido, hair almost toughing the ground when you load her into the car. On the way home you can feel yourself getting excited, the wetness from your nook staining your suit pants a deep purple. Your bulge throbs needily in its sheath as you pull up, unlocking and locking doors behind you, pants dumped at the bedroom door and her body dumped on the bed.

She stirs to a state of semi-conciousness as you strip her bare so you put a blindfold over her eyes and a gag in her mouth, your eyes running over her as you finish stripping yourself. Your bulge is already dripping in pre-material as you situate yourself over her, hands on either side of her head and legs up on your shoulders. You push slowly into her with a low, breathy sigh, bulge squirming within her when you still yourself. After a moment you start a slow, teasing pace, the room saving your quiet pants and her soft breathing. You take your time and change your speed or intensity as you wish, dragging our your please leisurely.

When you're about to finish you pull out of her and retrieve an egg vibrator from your bedside table, taking a moment to let the feeling pass. You give the girl a sharp slap to the side as you insert the vibrator into yourself, the look of disorientation etched into her features oh so priceless. You turn the vibrator up high and take your bulge into your hand, covering the lowblood in splashes of bright indigo genetic material moments later. You only have a few seconds to collect yourself before she's realising what happened, kicking and screaming loudly against her ball gag. You grab her by her hair, dragging her to the basement and locking the door.

No more child prodigy.

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse any spelling mistakes and/or grammatical errors, I'm going to re-read over this tomorrow.  
> This will probably get a rewrite at some point in the near future. I'm not particularly happy with the transition between the halves of the story, but I'll fix that up when I find the time.


End file.
